


Revise Your Save Files

by hearts_kun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, Family Feels, Gen, Missing Scene, Recovery, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 12:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: One of the first things Futaba starts doing after her Palace crumbles is coming to Leblanc and hanging around the area. It seems scary at first, but she feels that it’sherplace, and she is learning to own it.[My work for p5 writers zine! Find it at@p5writerszine.]





	Revise Your Save Files

One of the first things Futaba starts doing after her Palace crumbles is coming to Leblanc and hanging around the area. It seems scary at first, but she feels that it’s _her_ place, and she is learning to own it. She is learning to open the door with a smooth kick, to graciously place herself on one of the stools, to order Sojiro around and to show tongue at Morgana for shamelessly snooping at the kitchen. On the best days she feels more confident: she perks up, she beams and makes a smug face. She’s the real boss here, the giant dragon guarding the treasure, and Sojiro is only allowed to tear up in delight.

It’s not always the best days, though. Sometimes she comes quietly, barely opens the door and slides to the nearest booth, hugging her knees and staring off into distance. It’s moments like that when she doesn’t want to be big, and strong, and responsible. Moments when Akira and Morgana are not around to see her weakness and realize she hasn’t changed as much as she’s claiming to have. That, only Sojiro is allowed to see. Because he’s seen worse from her anyways.

Today, slowly rocking at the edge of the couch, she watches him, enthusiastic and busy at the counter, brewing coffee, checking on curry, exchanging lines with regulars. That deserves a little smile from her, because even this cheerful Sojiro, encouraged by her awakening, is far from loving all the chit-chat. He’s less of a talker and more of a doer; though, for outsiders it often seems the opposite. That’s understandable. Not like they lived most of their life being a dead weight on his shoulders. They wouldn’t know how he can be.

She still remembers when he gave up waiting for her for dinners thinking it would relieve some pressure from her shoulders. He wouldn’t know, of course, but it felt weird for her then; something in her chest stung, and she couldn’t understand that sadness — it wasn’t like she lost anything, she wouldn’t come out anyway, but then, why? Out of spite, she started walking up and down the corridor once in a while, and her legs felt like they were made of cotton after a whole day sitting.

“Futaba, come help here,” calls Sojiro’s voice from reality, and Futaba grins, and slides off the couch, running to him like a little buzzing airplane. Her legs feel fine now.

“What is it, old man?” she teases, and he rolls eyes and gives her a few dishes to serve. The curry aroma floods her head like a magic spell, and she laughs so loud, making him sigh in disbelief. She knows he’s still getting used to her being so casually around here, but she also knows he finds comfort in it and a lot of hope.

Winking at him, she carries curry to the clients. It’s an old couple of regulars, she guesses by the way they gasp softly at her and start asking where she’s gotten from, such a cutie. She feels awkward, but she’s not scared like she would be outside. When she returns to Sojiro, he pats her on the head, and she feels like a new person again. He promises to make her a nice portion too after they close up.

It’s evening, actually, but Akira is not coming back soon, today he is unusually busy (Futaba knows, he’s helping a friend in Mementos), so they have the whole café to themselves. And even though Futaba is not particularly sad, even though she likes Akira very much, she’s weirdly grateful for this opportunity to only be honest with Sojiro. There’s only so much honesty to share between multiple people, after all.

As the last visitors slowly finish their meals, there’s something else she remembers. It doesn’t feel right, remembering it here, in Leblanc, but as she rocks again, this time on a high stool, she thinks of how she would do the same on her gaming chair, climbing into it with her knees to her chest, hiding her face in them, and simply rocking from side to side. Those were the moments when she never opened the door or answered any questions, and guilt would bite her for it, only making it less possible to move. If Sojiro was unlucky to knock in this period, he was ignored and ghosted, no matter how much she actually wanted to jump up and out of this state.

It was just… hard… to control herself then, to find not just a small wish, but a solid _reason_ to stand up and talk to someone, even to Sojiro. She preferred a computer screen to people’s faces, headphones to people’s voices, silent screeching of her chair to actual movement. It wasn’t exactly apathy nor dread, more of something in the middle. As if her distorted true self was being held by chains. And, honestly, who knows? Maybe that’s how it was. Maybe she’s been in chains all this time until she found strength to contact the Phantom Thieves. That was quite a challenge then! It would’ve been now too, to be honest.

She remembers finding their Phan-Site and not believing it. It was so unrealistic then, she took it all for a joke, a clumsy attempt to explain the mysterious confession of Suguru Kamoshida. Except then Madarame happened. Except then Kaneshiro happened.

She felt her knees shake a little when she realized it could have been real. They might have really been stealing hearts, she thought, and her own heart ran faster, enveloping her into this kind of tremor, which made her feel every bit of blood pumped through her veins. The idea was barely formed in her head, but she felt the excitement and terrible fear already: what if they could steal hers too? No matter what their technology was, what if they just… could?

And there she is now, free of those chains.

It’s weird, honestly, it’s still weird to think of that; she can’t decide if what she feels is sadness or nostalgia; she can’t see if she wants to remember more, analyze every dusty corner of her memory, or to shove it into the closet, no details provided. In the end, she doesn’t know if she even has to choose. Memories come and go, and maybe it’s a natural process.

Just as natural as Sojiro turning the sign on Leblanc’s door and smiling at her mischievously.

“Ready for the best curry in the world, huh?” He’s so full of himself, Futaba can’t help but laugh again. Oh, she’s so ready.

Sojiro is too quick, but masterfully so. Futaba barely blinks a few times, or so it seems to her, anyway — and her portion of fresh-made curry is already placed in front of her at the counter. She licks her lower lip in anticipation: she’s never getting tired of this recipe. She’s about to get the best out of that dish. She might just rule the world and beat all the bosses with it!

Futaba’s hands freeze over her plate as she hears Sojiro hum his favorite melody while choosing which kind of coffee to brew for them. She physically feels her own face change to slightly surprised: she recognizes the sound. It feels so different yet so similar to how they used to be.

_“New memory incoming, receiving files,”_ she coughs internally, and then she’s hit with another realization.

He used to make coffee at home a few years ago, when Futaba just moved in, and he used to hum that same melody. The smells would fill the whole house as if trying to lure Futaba out of her room, but she would cocoon on her chair and refuse to move. Sojiro would knock at the door, of course, and sometimes even look inside, letting fresh air and more smells in.

Then she told him coffee made her sick, and he stopped. She can’t tell anymore if she lied then. Maybe she was just jealous of something she couldn’t get. She was a funny person back then, hating herself but trying to manipulate the world around her.

While she thinks, Sojiro sits beside her with his own plate. There are two cups of coffee already placed in front of them. He looks at her softly, tenderly, but with a hidden worry. He knows, when she hesitates to eat, that means she is too far into her thoughts. And Futaba’s thoughts, he also knows, are dangerous dungeons filled with torture devices.

Or-r-r… so it used to be! She grabs the cup first and makes a big gulp, and he makes a terrified sound, and, strangely, she thinks she hasn’t heard anything funnier in a while.

“You shouldn’t drink coffee on an empty stomach, and it’s _scalding_ , how are you even—” he groans quietly mid-sentence, realizing she was just trying to distract him.

“Not as scalding as me, though!” she retorts, not letting him call her out on her weird (okay, she admits) ways of communication. It’s all right as long as he understands her, isn’t it?

She finally gets down on that curry and hears Sojiro chuckle under his breath. There’s one thing they share over all others: this curry has the potential to make them cry, but they never do. They can’t — they’re in love with it. Maybe a little too much.

It goes just the same now. As the curry melts in their mouths, they stare into space, both revising memories of endless dinners when Futaba didn’t come or ran away crying from the table; revising, but not dwelling on them, because they moved on, and they feel strong enough to communicate through anything now.

As the curry melts in their mouths, they look at each other and smile, and Sojiro can’t hold himself and ruffles her hair. And, man, she pouts at him (because that’s unbearable!), and nearly calls him “dad”, and sees sparks shining in her own eyes through his, and that’s when she understands…

All files revised. System is back online.

She feels so real again.


End file.
